I'd like to write a bit about my mother and about why it is entirely logical that her daughter runs an art-gallery.

I have memories, from when I still had to work hard at see over the edge of the table, of mother painstakingly explaining drawings, or funny cartoons, to me . Drawing, funny or beautifully detailed, portraits or landscapes were part of what my mother did, always.

She drew all her life, all through school, all through work and all through motherhood. Much later, when I had moved away her letters where full of little images, everything that took place around her hopped, skipped or slept among the words in her letters. Around the house there were drawings and paintings of wildlife and flora, almost always with a twist. Very Swedish flowers almost always had a hummingbird or an oriental butterfly fluttering around them. Decorated chair legs had little devils clambering around.

And she taught, in fact she insisted upon, sharing her knowledge with me. I got Breughel, the Dutch painters, Caravaggio, the intricacies of engraving technique, all from her. There was so much to see! Not just the etruscian colleections in Rome, or bits of the Louvre I have never managed to find again, but the light ... as it painted foliage, crept through a broken fence or caught stones in a glittering stream

She painted too, and made prints and also some ceramics. But It was the drawing, her biology notes full of flower images and portraits of teachers and peers that I remember.

Her eye and her joy - " look there, look over there there". Later she happily let me drag her through awkward lanes just to rejoice in how the light fell on a windowsill.

Mum never knew about my little spat with cancer, it was not thre right time to tell her. And I am so sorry that I didn't know then what I know now about cancer treatment. I could have given herbetter support.

Whilst Noah was making last minute adjustments to the Ark and the flood was in full dress rehearsal mode, we opened the latest exhibition yesterday afternoon - Three: day and night - with Lesley Anne Derks, Catherine King and Jacqueline Marr in attendance. And it was a great fun afternoon! Everyone was happy to see the show up - the work is very good indeed and the three artists, whose work is completely different from each other's, were pleased with the hang. It was so good to see everyone taking time to study the pieces and speaking about them.

The weather has, however, maintained its soggy determination to make May a month to forget. The poor garden is ;like a bog, the pond, which developed a slow leak in the autumn, keeps itself topped up with the copious addition of rain. At least, this year so far, I have not needed to top up too often. I dread the inevitable point at which I shall have to hoick out the fish and store them safely, yank up the plants, demolish the upper rim and take out the lining. What a horrible job that will be. Then will come the whole thing again, but in reverse. Not happy.

Speaking of fish, here is a related image by Catherine King - the show continues until June 11th, come along to see it if you can!

The Hasselblad prize 2013 has been awarded to the ingenious Spanish photographer Joan Fontcuberta. Joan Fontcuberta is most famous as an conceptual photographer, but he is also a well known author, curator and tutor.He uses his influence to publicise the history of Spanish photography internationally.Since the mid 1980's Joan Foncuberta has used his photography to depict mistrust and doubt concerning the authorities. But he also wants to expose image making and different media as not always truthful or trustworthy.In their motivation for the award the Hasselblad Foundation point out how engaging Joan Fontcuberta's work is, also 'his bizarre humour, sharp intellect and flawless technique which allows Joan Foncuberta the elaborated provocations which permeates all of his photographs.A book with his work is underway and on October 25 an exhibition of his photographs will open at the Hasselblad Centre in Gothenburg, Sweden

When you go to an exhibition opening here we like to think that you will both enjoy yourself and have time to appreciate the work on display. This is not, however, Ulrika's recent experience in Sweden, as she outlines in her second contribution to The Line Monoblog below....

An unexpected exhibition

"The gallery was packed but with a little goodwill there was a space left for the pram as well. What a difference from the windy and snowy conditions outside. Heads bobbing in the crowd and laughter all around us.

Now where was the art?
We had been promised paintings inspired by the sea.

-CANAPES?

A woman held up a full plate in front of us.

We nodded and smiled.

At our question to whatever delicious food was presented. She quickly took a bite off all the different varieties and with her mouth full proceeded to explain what they were.

-I HAVE ACTUALLY MADE THEM ALL MYSELF!

We nodded and smiled.
Now then, the art...

A voice rose from behind her:
-Now I recall what the name is... Tapenade.
-NO, MY NAME IS ---, she answered the man back.
-I meant the olive mix on the flatbread, he shouted over the crowd.

The woman did not seem to have heard him.

She turned to us and continued:
- MY MOTHER USED TO WORK FOR THE ENVIRONMENTAL AGENCY: REST ASSURED I HAVE WASHED MY HANDS THOROUGHLY.

We nodded and smiled and tried to get closer to the pictures hanging on the walls.

-A GLASS OF CHAMPAGNE?

There she was again. Before we had time to answer she was wondering where she had put her own glass and she disappeared into the sea of heads with the tray.

We smiled and made another try to see some art.

-WHAT A WONDERFUL CHILD YOU HAVE!

The woman pressed down her face into the pram.
-IS SHE FOR SALE?

We smiled and politely declined the offer of an ever decreasing sum of money for our daughter.

We tried to concentrate on the art. There were paintings of lonely beaches, sea and bare cliffs. Serene and calming...

-DID I GIVE YOU SOME CHAMPAGNE?

Sea, red cliffs in the sunset, seabirds...

-WELL?

Boathouses, stones against stones...

-LOOK AT THAT I HAVE TWO GLASSES OF CHAMPAGNE! HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?

We smiled and had no answers at hand.

Calm waters, unsettled waters, deep blue...

The art on the walls would have taken our breath away if the woman had not done that already."